She hugs herself, fending off the chill air.
The winter wind blows against her bare legs and swoops under her coat's hem.
It's poor weather for her trade.
She enters a car, her skin tingles from the heat.
She does the deed at discount and is back into the cold.

He picks up the worn leather sap.
The henchmen presses the subject's palm against the dimpled tabletop.
"We'll make you talk."
SMACK - a scream - "Never!"
"You've run out of fingers."
The henchmen stands him up, pulls it out, and lays it limply on the cold steel surface.
"I'll talk!"

She sits nude and blindfolded in a chair.
Strong warm hands knead the tension from her shoulders.
As fingers work the back of her neck, she feels both a sleepy euphoria and the fire rising down below.
“Thanks for the massage.”
“You call it massage; I call it tenderization.”

The cat's hooked claw pierces her nipple.
Tassels tied to nipples, she jiggles her breasts.
She’s the cat toy when not in the service of her mistress.
She cleans their boxes with bare hands, and eats food not fit for them.
She’s the footstool when mistress strokes her lap cat.

“Where am I?” She thinks.
She is blindfolded in a dark cell.
Goosebumps cover her flesh.
There is a faint musty smell in the air.
She strains futilely against the restraints.
The heavy steel door groans and squeaks.
Something hard, yet fleshy, is pressed to her lips.
“Rent is due.”

The offer hung in the air. Would she take him back? Could she risk it one more time? She kissed his lips, decorating them both with tears. Their breath mingled, then separated. The walls around her heart stood firm.

He ran, heart thumping and chest heaving.
It was a cloudy night and streetlamp shadows stretched long on the abandoned rain-soaked streets.
He tripped on an overturned trashcan and fell headlong into the darkness.
Before he could push up from the pavement, it (person?, beast?, or spirit?) was upon him.

Folding chairs were arranged in a tomato-shape.
He was transfixed.
“Hi. My name is Monique, and I’m a sex addict. ...”
Her eyes returned his gaze as she told her story.
This feeling was new to them both.
They went home together; fucking all night.
“Now what?”
His shoulders slumped.

I twisted the handcuffs that bound me, and as I did, the chain that united the cuffs chafed across my naked nipples. My crotch began to get wet, and that caused my naked butt to slide first one way, then the other, on the faux-leather backseat of the car I rode in.
Finally, the driver pulled into a parking lot.
"This is it, honey," he said, pulling me out of the backseat. "Book-in."

The mahogany-paneled room is dark owing to the soft lighting and the combination of stained wood and chocolate-colored leather.
“I’m having feelings of inadequacy lately...” Said the pudgy balding man reclining on the couch.
“Well, are you?” Interrupted the stern looking therapist.
“Am I what?”
“Inadequate."
"Uhhh...”
“Let’s see it.”

Both watched in the mirror as he fucked her hard and fast. He watched as he hurt her; one hand gripped in her hair, the other wrapped firmly around her throat. Both lost to their own thoughts of each other find redemption in their carnal release.

Gabriel walked out into the snow covered backyard. His cigarette trembled between his fingers as he closed his eyes. Suddenly he heard a train in the distance. It had been years since he heard that train.